


Terminus

by Gigi_Sinclair



Category: Rome
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-17
Updated: 2012-04-17
Packaged: 2017-11-03 19:55:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gigi_Sinclair/pseuds/Gigi_Sinclair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night before the battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terminus

**Author's Note:**

> Not an AU, really, but there are some historical facts that weren't explicitly mentioned in the HBO canon (particularly that Cassius was married to Brutus's half-sister, Junia Tertia.) Spoilers for episode 2.08, but I think we all knew where that was going anyway.
> 
> First posted February 2008.

"We will not retreat." When the words left Brutus's mouth, they took with them a painful burden he'd been carrying since Caesar crossed the Rubicon. He was finished: with running, with cowardice, with dishonour. If they won, they would return to Rome as heroes, victors chosen by the gods. If they lost, they would die honourably, and, at this point, that was about as much as Brutus could hope for.

"I think I need a drink," Cassius smiled weakly, as soon as the messenger had gone. 

"I think I'll join you." Brutus was almost amused by the concern in Cassius's eyes, which he assuaged with: "I do have self-restraint, brother. And tomorrow will be no day to face with a hangover." 

They sat on Brutus's camp bed, a bottle of wine before them. Outside the tent, Brutus could hear the noises of the camp around them, soldiers arguing and laughing and preparing for battle. They were surrounded by thousands of men, but at the heart of it, he and Cassius were alone. 

"You may wish to write to my sister," Brutus said, sipping the warm, sour wine. "Just in case."

"Junia Tertia and I said our farewells in Rome," Cassius replied. "She has no expectation of seeing me again."

"Let us hope she is happily surprised, then." Brutus hadn't thought much about his half-sisters lately. They were younger and he had never had much to do with them, but the thought of never seeing them again suddenly hit him hard, like a punch to the stomach. "She is a good woman." 

"She has been a very good wife to me," Cassius agreed. 

Brutus smiled. "But she brought with her a formidable mother-in-law." 

Cassius laughed. "Your mother is an admirable person. If she had been a man, she would have been Caesar."

"As it was," Brutus said, "She had to make do with being Caesar's mistress." There was a lot of Caesar in Junia Tertia as well. Enough to make some, including Cicero, jump to conclusions about her true paternity. Brutus didn't know if she was Caesar's daughter, nor did he care to find out. It didn't matter to him; it certainly wouldn't have changed anything.

They sat in companionable silence for a while. Brutus was dimly aware of Cassius refilling his goblet, drinking, then setting it down on the floor of the tent. 

"Perhaps I should not say this," Cassius began, "But I fear I may not have another chance."

Brutus looked over. Cassius licked his lips nervously, and Brutus felt a surge of affection for him. "Say whatever you need to, old friend. There is nothing that will offend me now."

"When I was first presented to your family," Cassius began, his eyes fixed on the rug, "I thought you the most beautiful of Servilia's children." 

Brutus laughed. "That is flattering, but don't tell my sisters. Or my mother, for that matter."

Cassius looked up, and the seriousness in his eyes stopped Brutus's laughter. "Your mother knows. When it came time to write that letter condemning Caesar, she told me you wanted it. She..." He hesitated. "She implied that you would be most grateful if I were to pen that letter in your name. Very grateful indeed." 

"My mother is a masterful manipulator." Brutus had always known it. It didn't make him love her any less, but it made him wary of trusting her. "You mean to say that all these years..."

"I love Junia Tertia," Cassius put in, quickly. "But most of my bad poetry is not dedicated to her." 

Brutus felt his cheeks grow warm, and he buried his face in the nearly-empty goblet of wine. 

"I am sorry," Cassius began, but Brutus cut him off.

"There is no need for that." Brutus gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "But why did you never approach me? In my old life, I was hardly..." He searched for the right word. "Reticent about such things." 

"There was a joke amongst the back benches of the senate," Cassius said. "That the great and noble Brutus would only bend over for three men: a soldier, a senator and Caesar." 

Brutus blinked. "I say, that's rather unfair." Brutus was no longer that man; he had left that life behind him when he'd stepped into the river and begged the gods for a second chance. But it still hurt to remember what he had been, and to learn, evidently, what the men he'd thought were his friends had truly believed of him. 

Cassius reached across and rested a hand on Brutus's arm. "It was nonsense, and they knew it. But I did not want our friendship to be tarnished by such baseness."

Brutus would have liked to say that it wouldn't have been, but he remembered who he used to be. "Then you think more highly of me than I ever thought of myself." 

Cassius embraced him suddenly, pulling Brutus against his hard, moulded breastplate. It was uncomfortable, but Brutus felt a sudden rush of feeling---of gratitude, mostly---to this man who had been a constant in his life for so many years. 

When he pulled back, Brutus was ashamed to feel tears in his eyes. He brushed them away, hoping Cassius hadn't noticed. He was meant to be a military commander, a heroic leader sending his troops into battle. "You should not be here," Brutus said, pleased that his voice at least sounded steady. "You could have saved yourself a long time ago." Cassius hadn't even been involved at first, when Brutus had fled Rome with Pompey and the other senators. He could have stayed out of it, backed the winning side and survived. 

But he hadn't.

"I could not act against my conscience," Cassius replied. "You are in the right, and my place has always been by your side. In any case," a mischievous grin appeared on Cassius's face. "I would have missed seeing you in uniform, and that is an inspiring sight indeed." 

Brutus laughed, but the seriousness of their situation could not be forgotten for long. He took one of Cassius's hands in his, smiling as Cassius gripped it tightly. "This will likely be our last night together." Brutus was almost certain of it. Their legions were outnumbered; even if they managed to beat the odds, Mark Antony was somewhere on the other side, and he had a personal as well as a political vendetta against them. Brutus knew that their personal chances of survival were even smaller than their chances of victory. "Perhaps we should seize the moment while it is still available."

"Brutus, it is not my wish that you feel obliged to do anything for me."

"It wouldn't be for you," Brutus answered, honestly. "It would be for me."

Cassius tasted like dust and cheap campaign wine. Kissing had not been a feature of many of Brutus's previous sexual encounters, and he was surprised, when he pulled away, at how immediately he felt the loss of Cassius' mouth against his. "I should tell the sentry we do not wish to receive visitors," Cassius said, his voice calm, efficient and breathless. 

"They will surely suspect..."

"Many already do. But the men are not concerned with it. They believe that commanders who are devoted to one another will take fewer chances with their lives."

"I don't think that is up to us," Brutus replied. But if it offered the men some comfort, then he would hardly deny them it. 

When Cassius returned, he seemed nervous, biting his lip shyly and looking, Brutus thought, like the young boy he had not been for many decades. In his last life, Brutus would have approached such an encounter passively, almost coquettishly, waiting to be won over and convinced with words or actions. He was a different man now. Smiling, Brutus stood and pressed his mouth against Cassius's, his hands fumbling with ties and fasteners and the unnecessarily complicated clasps of the breastplate. 

Before, sex to Brutus had been about power, or boredom, or lust, or even, sometimes, a desire to irritate his mother. It had never, not with any man or woman, slave or aristocrat, been like this. 

He could have lost himself in Cassius, in his lean body, in the way he looked, and sounded, and felt. When Cassius slid down between his legs, the sensation touched Brutus not only in a physical way, and he fancied he could feel his heart growing and swelling along with his cock. Brutus didn't know what it meant, but he was glad he had experienced at least once in his life. 

Afterwards, Cassius lay beside him, his long fingers touching his arms, chest and face, as if he didn't believe he was real. "A beautiful boy. A courageous man." Cassius smiled gently at him.

"My loyal friend," Brutus replied. A brother, in fact, although he didn't think Cassius would wish to be reminded of that. Cassius kissed him, but softly, less urgently, and at once, he wanted to give Cassius everything he had to offer.

Cassius didn't resist, but he watched as Brutus pushed him onto his back, running his hands down Cassius's body. His father's ring glinted in the light and Brutus smiled. 

Cassius's cock, standing upright, demonstrated his interest, even if the man's face was calm, almost stoic. He gasped a little as Brutus bent his head and licked him, and he groaned, his eyes wide and his hands clasping at Brutus's thighs, as Brutus lowered himself onto the eager erection. 

Brutus had done this before, in his former life, many times with many men. It had usually been enjoyable, sometimes very much so, but, looking back with his newfound clarity, Brutus knew his partners had never valued him. He hadn't valued himself. He didn't know where he belonged, so he hid in the shadows cast by the father he could barely remember, by his mother's illustrious ancestors, by Caesar, who hadn't loved him enough to trust him or listen to him. 

Now, though, all confusion was past. When Cassius reached the apex of his pleasure, holding tight to Brutus and panting ecstatically, there was so much love in his eyes that Brutus felt like a true hero.

They stayed together through the night, and when the first rays of dawn broke into the tent, they rose together. Brutus stood as Cassius dressed him, finishing with the armour and the grandiose burnished helmet. 

"I feel I should say something poetic," Cassius said. "Cicero, no doubt, would have the perfect turn of phrase for such an occasion."

"We can't all be Cicero," Brutus replied. "Just say you will still wish to be with me when all is said and done and we're back safe in Rome."

Cassius smiled, but it was sad. "I don't know how Junia Tertia would feel about that."

Brutus shrugged. "She is a reasonable woman. I have no doubt we can come to some arrangement."

Brutus would have liked to say that he wasn't afraid, but that would have been a lie. But he wasn't conflicted, or confused, or even unsure. His mind felt so clear, in fact, that when they mounted their horses and readied themselves for the battle, he had a sudden flash of memory.

"Heavens, I entirely forgot. Today's your birthday, isn't it?"

Cassius looked at him. "Is it? I do believe you're right."

"Sorry there's no cake."

"Never mind. Next year, eh? Get me an extra big one to make up for it."

"I shan't forget."

Cassius smiled and began to complain about nutmeg, of all things. Brutus looked at him; his friend, his brother, his lover. Then he looked outwards, at the advancing horde of Octavian's and Mark Antony's troops, and he knew he was where he belonged at last.


End file.
